


Kitty Anxiety

by prinanalogicality



Category: Thomas Sanders
Genre: Anxiety is half cat, Because I love kitty Anxiety and poured a lot of heart into this cuteness, Fluff, I couldn't come up with a good reason why, Just accept it and read this pure fluff, M/M, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-25 05:29:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10757688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prinanalogicality/pseuds/prinanalogicality
Summary: A short series of little drabbles revolving around half-cat Anxiety.





	Kitty Anxiety

**Author's Note:**

> This can also be found on my tumblr, prinanalogicality. I take requests! :) Also, my great friend on tumblr notallpotatoesarefrenchfries drew a super cute sketch of kitty Anxiety, check it out!

Not even Logan can explain what happened.

One day Anxiety was as normal as the others in appearance. The next he woke up with cat ears, a tail, and an affinity for being pet, napping, and being thoroughly entertained by the movement of a pendulum or a laser pointer (to which Morality will _not let that go_ ).

“I do not see a blaring cause of the ailment, but I shall look into it. Something must have caused it,” Logan had said.

Morality finds Anxiety with cat tendencies to be adorable.

Logan finds it to be fascinating, and, though he will never admit it, quite precious.

Roman, who thought his beloved was cute to begin with, is often overwhelmed with cute by the development.

Anxiety simply wants to sleep.

* * *

 

The home within Thomas’s mind space is quiet, save for the sound of soft humming, purring, and the occasional hiss coming from the living room area.

Roman, sat on the sofa, looks at his lap with fondness, eyes roving over the fluffy head of hair resting on his thigh. His fingers card through said thick locks, pausing briefly to scratch behind perky cat-esque ears before moving on, repeating the process over and over. There, lying on the sofa, rests his boyfriend, the source of the purring. His eyes are closed, his face is free of makeup (Roman refused to risk foundation smearing on his immaculate trousers), revealing the healthy flush on his cheeks. He looks like an angel - but Roman knows the truth.

He bites back a grin as he pulls his hand away from his lover’s head, watching with keen interest as Anxiety almost immediately rouses from his content state, eyes opening and glaring up at him. His lips pull back in a hiss, revealing the sharp canine teeth he has.

“Stopping is a no.”

Anxiety shifts to reach up with curled fingers covered by his sleeves, his sweater paws settling on either side of Roman’s wrist. He tugs, craning his neck to convey to Roman what it is that he wants. In turn, Roman laughs, lowering his hand back to push Anxiety’s fringe from his eyes, the expression of his boyfriend melting back into content.

“I love you.”

“If you did, you wouldn’t keep stopping.”

“Are you not going to say it back?”

“It’s an understood thing.”

* * *

 

“How is that comfortable?”

Morality enters the living room with Logan, both eyeing the form sleeping on the back of the sofa.

“I do not believe that it would be a satisfying position for you or myself to be lying in, but his body chemistry has shifted to personify that of a human and a cat. Perhaps that could contribute to why he is pleased to lie there.” Logan responds, pushing his glasses up further on the bridge of his nose. “I do not suggest that we pause to rouse him from his rest in order to inquire about this, though. We may ask when he arises naturally.”

“Good plan. Let’s just go back to my room! We can snuggle!” Morality reaches out to grasp Logan’s hand, giggling as he pulls the intelligent trait along.

* * *

 

Anxiety yawns, sitting on the counter in the kitchen, sipping at his glass of milk. Morality is beside him, cooking pancakes, occasionally cracking jokes. 

“How do you make a pancake smile? You butter him up!” “Thin French pancakes give me the crepes.” “What is the best pancake topping? More pancakes!” The delighted giggles from the male bring small smiles to the morose trait’s lips, despite his urge to cringe at the dad-like comedy.

Anxiety’s ears twitch and perk up at the sound of whistling coming from another room, slowly getting louder, meaning the whistler is approaching - and he immediately knows it is Roman. He sets his mug aside and hops off of the counter, fingers already itching to cuddle up to his boyfriend (something he used to be able to control but, ever since the cat development, he has been attaching himself to Roman’s side more often). But, when Roman enters the room, Anxiety’s eyes are automatically drawn to _it_.

Held in Roman’s left hand is a thin black stick, about six inches in length, but what is attached to the stick is what gains Anxiety’s attention. There is a long, white fluffy material, about eighteen inches, in which every flick of Roman’s wrist causes the fluff to shift and twirl about, and all Anxiety can think about is how much he wants to _catch the floof_.

He reaches out for the end of the fluff, only for Roman to cruelly flick it away, expression amused. Anxiety, in turn, pouts, trying again, and again, and again. Roman simply watches, entertained, enjoying the sight of Anxiety’s pupils blown wide with interest and a childlike excitement in his movements.

No one likes this cat thing as much as Roman does.

* * *

 

“Did you just bite me?”

“You stopped again.”

* * *

 

“Anxiety? Anxiety, where are you?” Roman calls out in concern, walking down the steps to the living room. He has checked his room, the bathroom, Anxiety’s room - really, the entire upstairs, along with the living room and the kitchen downstairs. But, no matter where he looks, he cannot seem to find his boyfriend. “Anxiety, this isn’t funny, love. Where are you hiding?”

Roman is not met with a verbal answer, but instead, he sees a tail peeking out from beneath the coffee table in front of the sofa. Approaching the table, he crouches down, viewing Anxiety sleeping, curled up in the tightest ball possible, laid on a pile of carefully arranged pillows and blankets.

The sight is so adorable that Roman doesn’t even question when, why, or how. All he does is carefully scoop him up to carry him back to his room, where they can snuggle and take a cat nap together.

* * *

 

There is something about Roman’s voice that simply _calms_ Anxiety. To him, Roman is home. Roman is his love, his universe, his go-to. Roman puts him at a peace he has never known, and no matter the topic - Roman could talk about the specifics of how cheese molds and Anxiety would hang on every word, taking each one in and simply basking in the glory that is his prince.

That is why Roman cannot just sit anywhere.

He sits and boom, Anxiety is there, settling on his lap. The sofa could be empty, the entirety of the bed could be available, but Anxiety craves Roman’s touch. He always has, but now, it makes his body ache when he goes without Roman’s caresses for too long.

Anxiety just loves to be close to him, to listen to him, to be reminded that he has an amazing, loving boyfriend.

* * *

 

Logan cannot sleep.

Roman, being Roman, had left to go on a quest two days ago, and he plans to be back the next afternoon. He made Logan and Morality aware of his trip, how long it would be, when he would be back, but he did not want them to tell Anxiety. He wanted to surprise the male with his return, and at the moment, Logan is cursing his promise to keep it a secret.

He can hear Anxiety’s lonely mewling (more like screeching) from down the hall. His door is closed, he made sure Anxiety’s door is closed, and despite the barriers, the boy’s voice just keeps _carrying_. Logan truly does enjoy Anxiety’s company, but Anxiety suffering from Roman withdrawals is downright unbearable. Perhaps, if Anxiety was aware of Roman’s return the next day, he would not be quite so upset.

Curse Logan’s honor.

He drinks plenty of coffee the next morning.

* * *

 

“Anxiety? My love, I have returned!”

Footsteps in quick succession, a bright smile, a surprised “oof!” as one is tackled to the ground.

“Darling, I was only gone a few days-”

Purring, soft mewling, gentle nuzzles.

* * *

 

“You know, Logan.” Roman speaks up, grinning as Anxiety perks up at the sound of his voice, looking up at him.

“Yes?” Logan hums a bit in response, looking up from his novel. Morality also turns his attention to Roman, leaning back against Logan’s chest.

“I am unsure if whether you were trying to come up with a solution for Anxiety’s current, you know, affliction. But, I do believe that it is unnecessary.”

Anxiety immediately rolls his eyes and mutters to Roman about how it actually sucks to be more tired than usual and that he hates being so easily distracted - but then Roman’s fingers deftly scratch beneath his chin and he goes quiet, the purring beginning.

Logan smiles to himself. He never had any plans to get rid of Anxiety’s cat-like qualities, nor does he plan to.

* * *

 

Roman smiles, kissing the crown of Anxiety’s head, lying in bed with him. “I love you, my kitten.”


End file.
